


fidelity

by stuckyasfucky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: But Steve feels a lil better by the end of it, He's Not a Fan TBH, I'm not a monster y'all, Light Angst, M/M, Not completely happy, Positive ending, Steve Gets Shot, brief mention of natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:50:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9676076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckyasfucky/pseuds/stuckyasfucky
Summary: Steve misses the stars, but mostly his best friend.So he fought. He fought and he ached and he ran and barely stayed alive. Until the Winter Soldier. An opponent to rival him. Someone who was as strong as him, as fast as him. The metal arm was intriguing. But it was only adrenaline, and Steve still had holes that couldn’t be filled.Then the mask came off. The mask came off, and everything changed.





	

It was night, but Steve couldn’t remember the Brooklyn skies ever having been so dim. He sat out on the fire escape long into the night, staring wistfully up into the sky, wishing that he knew where all of the stars went. It became sort of a ritual for him to pass the little hours of the morning; sleep never came easily, it hadn’t during the war, and it didn’t here. Looking up into the newly faded sky quieted some of the nastier thoughts that plagued him at night otherwise. Once, while he was sketching the heavens above, a thought occurred to him. Was the wishing star still there? He searched frantically above him, and his focus landed on a certain pinprick of light. He squinted. It seemed sort of right, but Steve could never quite distinguish it from the others. That wasn’t his specialty. That was someone else’s job. 

And all of a sudden looking up at what might or might not be the wishing star, Steve felt incredibly out of place, and incredibly lonely. He didn’t belong here, in a world where televisions shone brighter than the night sky, where people just kept finding new ways to make life hell. He had nothing left from home. He had nothing. 

_He had nothing. Looking at his empty apartment, Steve felt a new wave of grief wash over him. His mother had been the sun of his universe; everything he did, he did for her. And now she was gone._

_“Hey, pal,” a familiar voice said, behind him. A warm hand clasped his shoulder. “I know this is hell, but we’re gonna make it through this.”_

_“We?” Asked Steve carelessly._

_Dark brows furrowed together over stormy blue eyes. “Well, yeah,” he said slowly. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you do this all on your own, right?”_

_Steve shrugged apathetically. “I dunno.”_

_The other man sighed. “Oh, come on, punk. Bring it in.”_

_Steve found himself wrapped firmly in his best friend’s arms, and the solid embrace broke the dam._

_“What am I gonna do without her, Buck?” He choked out, burying his face into Bucky’s chest._

Steve bowed his head. He missed everything from his old life so much. He missed his mom, Bucky and the rest of the Barnes family, and the grumpy alley cat that sometimes wound itself around his ankles, begging for food. The fishy smell of the docks, the dusty, golden schoolyard where he had been the victim of harsh words and unforgiving fists, everything. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Steve just wanted it back. 

It became easier to handle, with time. The countless missions SHIELD sent him on were a welcome distraction. Steve had always found it easier to sleep when his muscles were aching and his mind was blank with exhaustion. 

He learned what a smartphone was and how to use it. He learned about the Internet and spent hours and hours scrolling through photos of the Howling Commandos. He cried himself to sleep that night. 

He was incredibly lonely. There was no one here that understood him. He was a young man when he went into the ice, and a young man when he came out of it. He was still reeling over the loss of his best friend when he went in, and now he was blindsided by the loss of the rest of the Howling Commandos. Peggy was only hanging on by a thread, and then he would be absolutely alone in drowning in the past, the present, and the new future he found himself thrust into head first. 

At least fighting was still the same. The weapons had changed, but the rush of feeling someone else’s bones crunch beneath you, the adrenaline of taking out five or six or seven men at a time, that stayed the same. 

So he fought. He fought and he ached and he ran and barely stayed alive. Until the Winter Soldier. An opponent to rival him. Someone who was as strong as him, as fast as him. The metal arm was intriguing. But it was only adrenaline, and Steve still had holes that couldn’t be filled. 

Then the mask came off. The mask came off, and everything changed. 

“Bucky?” He whispered, hardly daring to believe the sight in front him. It was a strange rush of emotion, shock and ecstasy and betrayal and denial. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky ground out, pulling out a pistol and aiming directly at Steve’s heart. 

Go ahead, Steve thought briefly. 

Then Natasha swooped in and saved his ass, as she always did, and Bucky Barnes was gone in a cloud of smoke.

Everything was hazy until Steve saw Bucky again. 

And it was him. He knew those eyes, that cleft chin. 

“People are gonna die, Buck,” Steve stated. “I can’t let that happen.”

Bucky didn’t respond, just stared blankly at him.

Steve didn’t know what he expected. For Bucky to shake his head, for his eyes to clear, for him to grin, for him to say, “Oh, hey, Stevie. What took you so long?”

Alone with his thoughts, Steve had tricked himself into believing that this was something he could do. _Even if he doesn’t come around, it’ll be alright._ Steve had known what the real Bucky, his Bucky, would have wanted him to do. 

Looking at the face of his best friend, stoic in the shadows of the helicarrier, Steve was hit with the crushing reality of what was about to happen.

God, this hurt. It hurt, it hurt, _it hurt_. He’d never had to choose between what he wanted and what he thought was right. He hadn’t realized what a luxury, what a privilege that had been. 

Steve just wanted to hide. Wanted to flee. 

“Please don’t make me do this,” he said helplessly. 

Bucky remained unmoved. 

Steve summoned his strength, bared his teeth, and flung his shield at his best friend. 

Bucky deflected the shot easily with his metal arm, and began firing as Steve rushed towards him. He dodged Steve’s shield, twisting and parrying with his guns, and finally catching Steve in the side with a bullet. 

Steve slammed his shield into Bucky, who fell to the ground, and then rose to his feet, whipping out a knife. His face contorted into a grimace, and he pounced. 

They fought closely, only for a few moments. Steve can remember flashes of it, steel singing through the air, Bucky’s heavy black boots lashing out towards his face.

In between clashes, Steve retrieved the chip, pressing buttons and praying fervently that he was remembering Maria’s instructions correctly. 

He finally got it out of the port, and soon enough he and Bucky were battling it out for the green piece of metal. 

They fought, and it was almost like dancing, the swish and sway of hands and feet just like a waltz. _Bucky loves dancing_ , Steve thought absently, as he dropped to the glass level of the helicarrier. 

The chip was on the ground, and Steve rushed towards it, but was forced to parry Bucky’s never ending attacks instead. They grappled, and then Bucky got a hold of it. 

He had the chip clenched in his hand, the human one, and then Steve was applying pressure and the bones were cracking and Bucky was screaming and Steve was clinging onto the side of a German train, watching his best friend fall into the snow.

Despite the blindsiding flash of memories ( _stupid stupid stupid stay focused_ ), he managed to hold on to Bucky, who writhed and kicked as Steve steadily cut off his air supply. 

Buck went limp, and his hand went lax, and Steve surged out for the chip that fell neatly on to the glass. 

He ran away, adrenaline pumping through his system. He had to be quick, before Bucky woke up, and-

Blinding pain. 

Shot again. 

Steve ignored it, and continued climbing like a madman. Several shots rang out, nearer and nearer each time. He made it back to the main computer and frantically fumbled with the pouch on his belt where the chip was hidden. 

He was almost there when he was shot again. 

It knocked the wind out of him this time. He slid to the ground, and looked down. Right in the middle of his torso, a red stain bloomed across his old uniform. He grimaced. This one didn’t have nearly the armor his newer one did, but he’d thought maybe, just maybe, that Bucky would have seen it and-

He didn’t have time for this goddammit. He struggled up, burning with pain, and plugged the chip into the correct port. 

It lit up green, and he gave the command. 

“Fire now,” he grit out, clutching his wound. 

“But Steve-” the concerned voice of Maria Hill responded. 

“Do it!” he shouted, interrupting her, not caring about being polite, not caring about anything except the success of the mission and the pain searing through his gut. 

This was the only way. Steve could feel himself losing strength, losing life. 

The helicarrier shook and groaned under the fire, and for a brief moment, Steve was at peace. He would die here, and that was alright. He should have died sixty years ago, anyways. Then Steve heard Bucky scream. 

He peered over the railing. Bucky was pinned down by a metal beam, pushing futilely up against it. 

Steve didn’t even need to think to know what to do. He flung himself towards his best friend, discarding whatever glimpse of peace he’d been afforded those few, sweet moments. He fell to the ground with a thud and a groan, and limped to the other man’s aid. 

Even from a distance, Bucky looked like a trapped animal. Feral and wild, yes, but frightened and bewildered, too. 

In his weakened state, it took almost everything Steve had in him to lift the beam. He clenched his teeth and coiled his muscles. Pulled hard. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. 

Bucky quickly clawed his way out from underneath the beam, and when Steve dropped it, it clashed to the ground, ringing like a death knell. 

They paused, both hunched in on themselves and breathing hard.

“You know me,” Steve said harshly. 

_Steve Rogers had been sixteen for almost a full day, but he didn’t feel any different. The day had been long and lonely; even though it was a Saturday, his mother had been at the hospital all day, and Bucky had picked up an extra shift at the dock. Steve tried to read, but couldn’t focus; tried to draw, but didn’t have a muse. He even tried to sleep, but he was too restless._

_His mother shuffled in a little past seven o’clock. “Steve, why don’t you go on out with Bucky tonight? It’s your birthday, and I don’t want you to be stuck here with me,” she said drowsily._

_Steve smiled. “Alright, Ma. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She was already passed out on the couch by the time Steve finished speaking, so he placed a kiss on her forehead, and slipped out the door._

_Now he was watching fireworks explode on the beach, shivering against the harsh chill._

_“You punk,” Bucky said fondly, his mouth quirking up at the side. “I can’t believe you forgot a jacket. Aren’t you cold?”_

_“No way,” Steve said stubbornly, even though his teeth were chattering._

_Bucky laughed richly, and pulled Steve close to his side. He was so warm, and it was a welcome relief from bitter wind that was picking up._

_“You can’t fool me,” Bucky whispered into Steve’s hair. “I know you.”_

“No I don’t!” Bucky shouted, lunging at Steve. 

Bucky took a shot at him with his metal arm, but met the vibranium of the shield instead, and the force carried them both to the ground. 

They both stood with great difficulty.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed. “You’ve known me your whole life.”

_It was a clear night, sometime in the summer of 1927. Bucky and Steve were sitting on the fire escape, completely absorbed by the night sky._

_“Stevie, look!” Bucky said quietly, nudging his small friend gently._

_“Huh? Where?” Steve wrenched his gaze away from the dazzling sky to look at his friend._

_“Do you see that star, right there?” Bucky pointed a small, chubby finger at a star extraordinarily bright for its size._

_“Uh-huh. What about it?”_

_“That’s our star now, Stevie. For our whole lives, that’ll be the wishing star, just for you and me.”_

Bucky still had the look of the hunted in his eyes, surrounded by sparks and smoke, his hair fluttering loosely around and in front of his face. He looked down, and then swung at Steve with a groan. 

He caught the top of the shield again, causing Steve to fly backwards, and him to fall forwards. 

“Your name, is James, Buchanan Barnes,” Steve said, panting. 

“SHUT UP!” Bucky screamed and took another wild, unbalanced shot. 

_The ocean was untameable, with the power of the wind. It beat up violently against the shore, and Steve huddled closer to Bucky._

_Bucky looked down. “You okay there, pal?”_

_Steve nodded._

_The fireworks were starting, bursting into red and gold right before their eyes, but Steve couldn’t look away from Bucky._

_His next realization came like a kick to the stomach: Bucky was beautiful._

_He was locked in on the show, thank God, and Steve could make out the shapes of the fireworks in his eyes. Green and blue. White and purple. Big, big, small. Small, small, big. There were interesting shadows playing across his jawline, and Steve, for the first time, wished he could drag his fingers along the edge of it. Wished to gently trace the bones that made his best friend so nice to look at._

_“Buck,” Steve whispered, not sure what he was going to do. Bucky looked over at him, and smiled radiantly._

_“Shut up and enjoy the show.”_

Steve tore his helmet off and rose to his feet. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said, and dropped the shield. He’d picked up the shield to save Bucky, and he’d drop it just as quickly for the same reason. 

“You’re my friend,” he finished, with steely resolve. It took Bucky a moment to decide what to do. Steve wasn’t sure if he was coming back to, or just figuring out the best plan of attack.

He tackled Steve, with a cry, pushing him back to the edge of the helicarrier.

“You’re my mission,” he said coldly, and pulled back his metal arm to attack. 

He punched Steve, one, two, three times, Steve’s head flying back into the edge of the aircraft every time. 

“YOU’RE. MY. MISSION,” he yelled, punctuating each word with a hit. 

Steve hurt, badly. But he wouldn’t hurt his friend. Bucky reared back, panting, about to deliver what would probably be the final blow, when Steve spoke. 

“Then finish it,” Steve whispered. “‘Cause I’m with you, ‘til the end of the line.”

_“Forever?” Steve asked, his eyes wide and blue in his tiny face._

_“‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky promised._

Steve never faltered, but Bucky did. 

Steve Rogers was broken and bruised and loved his best friend steadfastly. Out of his quickly fading vision, Steve thought he saw the Winter Soldier turn into Bucky Barnes.

His strong brow crumpled, his eyes, to Steve at least, seemed clearer, and then he fell into the freezing waters of the Potomac. 

He dreamed of the sky. He dreamed of stars and constellations and Bucky’s warm presence against his side. 

He dreamed of a fire escape, where he used to draw in afternoons, where he looked into the cosmos at night, and where Bucky first found the wishing star. 

He dreamed of his first kiss and Coney Island and cotton candy and a ferris wheel and fireworks on his birthday and a million other golden and soft things. 

When he woke up, he was in a stark and cold hospital, an ache in his side, but the holes in his heart a little fuller.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
